


Keep You With Me

by bakedgoldfish



Category: The West Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-28
Updated: 2005-02-28
Packaged: 2019-05-15 05:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14784659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakedgoldfish/pseuds/bakedgoldfish
Summary: "I may not be able to physically or mentally carry out my duties as president."





	Keep You With Me

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Keep You With Me**

**by: Baked Goldfish**

**Character(s):** Jed, Leo  
**Pairing(s):** Jed/Leo  
**Category(s):** Slash  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Summary:** "I may not be able to physically or mentally carry out my duties as president."  
**Author's Note:** There's a m/m sex scene, vaguely described, but there nonetheless. If this squicks you, please turn back now. Thank you. 

{Leo} 

I finally got the kids to go home. Sam had still been here, as had Josh. Both of them had been working their respective tails off. But the rings under their eyes, and the fact that Josh's hair looked even more like a shrub than usual sort of pulled my fatherly instincts to the surface, and I shooed them on home. 

It's somewhere around six-thirty in the morning. And, no, I didn't pull an all-nighter. 

Okay, maybe I did. 

In my defense, there's work to be done. I want Jed to come back here and be able to sleep. So, I'm doing whatever work I can for him so that he can just crawl into bed. He's been through a lot since the address. I know Abbey probably ripped him a new one, and now she's gone for a couple of days. Add that to the fact that he's kicking himself over those nine boys. . . He's been under a lot of stress. 

And he doesn't even *know* about re-election. I hope. 

My eyes are stinging. I probably shouldn't be doing this, staying up all night. I'm not a young man anymore, but I need to. For Jed. If he's gonna be a two-term president, I've got to do this. But, christ, I'm tired. I'll just close my eyes for a minute, lay my head on the desk. I've been up way too long. I'll be back up in half an hour. I just need a minute, that's all.

{First Interlude}

Jed leaned against the doorframe, staring at Leo's desk. Hands in pocket, hair slightly askew, he shook his head in dismay at the sight of his friend sleeping where he was. Running one hand tiredly through his somewhat unkempt hair, Bartlet stepped into the room, glancing around for the file he had been looking for, trying to keep quiet so as not to wake McGarry up.

Finding the file on the couch, Jed took another long look at his friend. One hand was stretched out in front of him, fingers hanging off the edge of the desk, the other curled under his head like a pillow. His jacket was slung over the back of his chair. The president saw Leo's tie dumped messily on the side of the desk, and moved with a smile to go fold it correctly. 

Placing the now-neat tie back on the desk, Jed shook Leo by the shoulder gently. "Hey," he whispered. "Go home."

Leo looked up at him groggily, a little rumpled with his sleeves folded half-way up his forearms and the top button of his shirt undone. "I'm fine," he stated automatically. Stretching to get the kinks out, he asked, "What time is it?"

Knowing that he would not be able to get Leo to go home anytime soon, Bartlet shook his head slightly. "Quarter past seven," he answered. "I'm heading up to the residence. I'll be back in about half an hour or so."

Leo shook his head and dismissed the president's last statement. "Don't bother," he stated. "Take the morning off, sir, I've got things taken care of."

"You really shouldn't be pulling these all-nighters, Leo."

"Yeah. Take the morning off, Mr. President."

Jed shook his head and walked to his office. "You sure you've got things taken care of?"

"Yes sir. Go to sleep." Leo put his glasses on and picked up a manila folder, ending the conversation. He did not glance up as Jed left the office.

{Jed}

Damn. Damn, damn, damn.

The ceiling of my bedroom is boring.

I say this because I've been staring at it for a good ten minutes, sprawled out on my bed, unable to sleep. And, well, not that I'm an expert on exhilirating ceiling designs, but I can tell you that white paint with that pointy stubble thing going on isn't exactly, you know, exciting.

I should be perfectly comfortable. I really should. These are my favorite pajamas. And the bed's been made, so the sheets are all straight, not crinkly or anything. And the temperature is perfect. Just warm enough. It's quiet. Leo's in the west wing, so I know things are being taken care of. 

I guess I just have too much on my mind. I can't get the image of those coffins out of my head. Nine guys. . . gone, and for what? So that Juan Aguilar can say that he took on the mighty American military, and won. And now the bastard's out of prison, and I can't well back Miguel because he "released Aguilar on his own cognition," and if I backed him, it would look as if I asked him to release Aguilar so that we could get the hostages back. Which, of course, I did. So now this tyrant's going to run rampant in that country, and there will be even more cocaine coming into *this* country, and we're back at square one.

Except now we've got nine more families mourning the loss of their sons.

Damn. I can't believe we could be that stupid. I can't believe *I* could be that stupid. Why the hell did I order them in. They lured us there, and we took the bait, and now there are nine mothers who will never get to give kisses to their sons and nine fathers who won't ever be able to hold newborn grandchildren in their arms and I don't know how many brothers and sisters who will never be able to tease or be teased by their brother.

And nine women who will never see their love again.

Abbey's only gone for two days. That's what she told me. But I miss her. I need her here. I should've told her to stay. But that would have been selfish, wouldn't it? She wouldn't have minded, though, bless her. At least, I don't think she would have minded. I hope she wouldn't have. No, no, she wouldn't have minded. She loves me. And I love her. So, she wouldn't have minded.

I should call her. No, wait, no. She's probably getting ready to sleep. I'll talk to her later. Because, I need to tell her. . . I need to let her know I'm not gunning for re-election. At least, I don't think we are. Nobody's told me if we are.

See, here's the thing. Leo's in the west wing. But I'm really not quite sure what, exactly, he's doing. Oh, I know what I tell him to do. But he stays after so much, sleeping in his office and the such. One day I saw Margaret walking in with some dry-cleaning. She told me they were Leo's suits, and proceeded to put them in his closet. He's working so hard there, and I just *know* that he wasn't working this hard before the new year.

Before the leadership breakfast.

Leo told me we took a hit that day. Shallick tried to thrash us, but Leo told me that we fixed it. Dammit. I really must be going blind, because I completely missed this one. He's been pulling me to safe ground lately, and I haven't been paying attention. Dammit!

Hell, I can't sleep now. I can pace, that's for damn sure. That's what Abbey meant. We *are* getting prepped for re-election, which, mind you, is *two years* away. But I didn't see it until just now. I didn't believe Abbey when she told me, because I thought that my staff would *tell* me if we were, oh, I don't know, getting ready to bid for the highest position in the nation. 

My staff. Who am I kidding? Knowing Leo, he probably told all of one person, if that. Try to keep it secret. The fewer people there are who know, the fewer people there are who could possibly slip up and tell me. Dammit, Leo. We're supposed to be a team, and you're working on your own here. This is just gonna hurt us in the long run, him doing this behind everyone's backs.

Leo, pick up the damn phone. Leo? Get up here. We need to talk.

{Second Interlude}

Knocking on the door, McGarry said, "Sir, it's me. May I come-"

The door opened suddenly. Leo stood face to face with a very irate president. "Come in, Leo," Bartlet ordered coldly, walking to the sofa. 

Leo entered the bedroom and closed the door behind him quietly. "You needed to see me, Mr. President?" he asked, walking towards Bartlet with his hands stuffed in his pockets and his sleeves still rolled up slightly.

Gripping the back of the sofa, Jed bit back any harsh remarks that came to mind. "We're running for next term already," he stated, his voice clipped and hard.

Swallowing uncomfortably, Leo answered quietly, "Yeah."

"And you decided that the candidate needn't know this tiny little fact," Jed stated angrily, turning to face his chief of staff. "Leo, what the hell were you thinking? That I wouldn't go along with it? That I," he continued, making wide gestures with his hands,"that I would say 'not gonna happen' and stay stuck in neutral? Is that what you were thinking?"

"Yeah, I was thinking exactly that," McGarry replied boldly. "Isn't that what you would have done had I come to you a month ago and told you that we had to start up again?" The question held a conviction to it that told Bartlet that Leo knew the answer to that question already.

Calming down a little, Jed sat on the edge of the bed and ran his hands through his hair. "Leo, I don't know if I *can* serve a second term."

"Of course you can, Jed." He had no reason to believe otherwise, and his voice was confident because of it.

Jed looked at his best friend, certainty painted on the other man's face, and his own anger melted into compassion. "Leo, my MS has the potential to become secondary progressive MS. Let's say I get re-elected. Come my second year in office, I may not be able to physically or mentally carry out my duties as president."

{Leo}

Can't, can't physically or. . . mentally. . .

Oh, christ.

I wasn't even thinking about that. I wasn't even thinking about that. I swear to God, I wasn't even thinking about that. Can't physically or mentally. . .

I can't even say it out loud. I can't speak. It's not right. It's not fair. He's so smart, and he's so good. I've got to sit down. I can't speak. It's not fair.

But he's right. He *won't* be able to. . . do anything. He'll. . . damn. He won't be able to. And I should've remembered that. I didn't. I wasn't thinking about that when I decided we would run again.

I shouldn't have done that, either. That's his decision, his and Abbey's. Not mine. Christ, I can't believe I screwed this up. I just went ahead in my bullheaded, stubborn way and decided *for* them. I was planning for two years from now, and totally screwed us for the short term. 

Let Bartlet be Bartlet, my ass. He was right. I do pull him to the middle ground. God. . . 

I can't even look at him. He's sitting there, on the bed, and I'm sitting here, on the sofa. And I can't look at him. Because it's not fair that he, of all people, has multiple sclerosis. He has so much going for him already, I'm the screwup, not him. Yet he has this debilitating neurological disease, and I'm perfectly healthy. It's not right. 

He asked me one time, jokingly, why I turned away from the church. Right now I want to ask him why he doesn't turn away from the church. Because right now God seems like a bad practical joker.

{Third Interlude}

Jed got up and sat next to Leo. The chief of staff had his head in his hands and his elbows rested on his knees. "Leo," he started. "Look at me."

"I wasn't even thinking of that," Leo muttered, ignoring Jed's plea.

"I know," Jed stated, placing his hand on McGarry's back soothingly. "Leo, I still want to be president, you know. I said that I *may* not be able to carry out my duties. Leo, only about a quarter of people with my type of multiple sclerosis are disabled ten years after diagnosis. I, I'm just saying, it's something we need to keep in mind. I still want to try."

Leo looked up at him wearily. "You sure?" he asked, his voice somewhat muted. "I mean, I think we can still salvage. . ."

"Leo. Look at me." He gently grabbed Leo by the chin and forced the other man to look him in the eyes. "We can do this. I know it. It. . . we may have to tell the public, but if we have to do that, we will. It's a non-issue."

McGarry stared into the depths of those blue eyes, his own eyes dark with doubt and confusion. "You sure?" he repeated, a little unsurely. "You don't. You don't have to-"

"I *want* to." His hand moved from Leo's chin, fingers softly trailing up the other man's jawline to stroke his temple. "I want to."

{Jed}

I want you.

I want you to open up and let it all out, and I want you to forget for a moment that I'm the president and you're my chief of staff. I want us to be Jed and Leo for a minute. Just for a minute. Then we can go back to playing that game that we play every other minute of the year. I want to feel your tears on my shoulder through my shirt, because that will let me know that you're real, that you're not letting things fester. 

I want you.

I want you to lay down with me, and I want you to let me heal you because I know you're hurt. I don't like it when you're hurt. I want you to close your eyes and remember everything that's ever made you hurt, because that way, I'll be able to make sense of it all for you. Or at least be able to make it all go away. I want to help you like how I used to help you.

I want you.

{Fourth Interlude}

Jed slowly pulled Leo's head closer to his own, lips slightly parted, eyes staring deep and smoldering. He brushed against Leo's mouth, feeling the slightest trembling in those soft, warm lips before he crushed them against his own, his hands gripping their holds ever so faintly. Their breaths intermingled as their tasted each other for the first time in a painfully long time. 

And when the oxygen was gone between them, they broke apart for only the smallest moment before reuniting, lapping at each others mouths, hands gripping bodies as if their very survival was dependant on it. Indeed, there was a want burning inside of them, a need to become one for fear that if this task was not accomplished, they would die from the flames searing their souls. Sweet urgency inbued itself unto their movements, and all the physical barriers between them were stripped off and pooled onto the ground beneath them. Breathing became secondary, ragged, primal as they moved with each other, as a completed whole. Murmurs of names and evocations of love melted into whimpers and gasps and silent kisses as waves of warmth and dizziness washed over them like the violent white-capped ocean on a stormy beach.

{Leo}

That little spot at the nape of your neck is begging for a kiss. You know the spot I'm talking about. A couple inches below your hair, right between your shoulderblades. You're salty. With sweat. You taste good. You've always tasted good.

We should get up off the floor. You've got a bad back. But I don't want to move. I want to stay here, right on top of you, like. . . like some sort of human blanket. I want to keep you warm. Keep you safe. Keep you with me.

Keep you with me.

Remember when we first did this? It was right before we graduated college. I was drunk. I was always drunk back then, it seems. But in the morning, even though I had that hellish hangover, I felt. . . I felt beautiful. Physically beautiful. Nobody'd ever made me feel like that before. I wanted to stay there, forever. I felt like I belonged there, like I fit with you. For the first time in my life, it was right. The sun was just right, the clouds were just right, the way the sheets were all messed up was just right, the way your hair was ruffled in front of your eyes while you slept.

It was all just right. And now it's just right again. And I don't want to leave. I don't ever want to leave.

{Fifth Interlude}

"I've got work to do," Jed announced drowsily, shifting slightly under the warm weight that lay on top of him. 

"No you don't," Leo countered, sliding off him and snuggling up beside the darker haired man. "You've got to go to sleep."

Stretching a bit, Jed eased up and shuffled to his feet. Holding out his hand, he looked down at Leo, who was still stretched out on the carpet. "Sleep next to me?"

{Jed}

Come on, Leo. Please. Take my hand. At least stay with me for a few more minutes. I don't get to do this too often. I want to be near you, like this. At least until I fall asleep. I need someone warm there next to me. I want that warm someone to be you. 

Do you know how safe I feel next to you? Even when you're just standing near me, a few feet away, I feel so safe. Come lay down next to me. I want to feel safe for a little while longer. I know you'll still be in the same building as me for the next few hours, but I just want you next to me. 

I know you understand. And I know you're thinking of impropriety. I don't care about that right now. I just want you to keep me warm, keep me safe. Keep you with me.

Keep you with me.

{Finale}

A mother prepared to send her child to school.

A commuter beeped his horn at the traffic at Dupont Circle.

A son watched his father pass away in a hospital room.

A man took his lover's hand willingly, following him to the morning-warmed bed.

And, for those precious few moments, the rest of the world ceased to exist.

-end- 


End file.
